Luann Udell

In the last essay, I left out an important resource in point #1 (advertising in published materials distributed at the show.)

Well, DUH, most shows have a show guide or program. This is an excellent place for an ad–if and only if your budget allows. Do not go into debt or risk financial instability to pay for big advertising campaigns.

But a good ad in the guide/program targets your primary audience–buyers at the show. So if you can afford an ad of any size, this is the best place to put one.

As for point #8 (FOLLOW UP!), I have no idea where that cool guy smiley face came from. It kept showing up, and I kept taking it out. I guess the universe just wants him there. Well, it is important to follow up. And everyone always tells me I need more graphics in these posts.

And do not panic if I don’t get another post out in this series for a few days. My family is taking my father to the World War II memorial in Washington, D.C. this weekend. So the next essay may be delayed.

My dad served in the Navy in WWII, in a land-based initiative in China called SACO (for the Sino-American Cooperative Organization). He has never boasted or made a fuss about his military service, though I know he is proud of it. We’re looking forward to this opportunity to let him know how proud we are, too.

Most people assume wholesale shows are the only serious “next step” to building your wholesale business.

They can be. As recently as a handful of years ago, a good wholesale show could bootstrap your wholesale business efficiently and quickly.

Times have changed. It’s not impossible to achieve immediate success with such shows. But it’s not a sure thing anymore. And like any other endeavor we’ll talk about over the next few essays, it takes preparation. Lots and lots and lots of preparation.

A few guidelines to evaluating whether a wholesale show is right for you, and then we’ll explore ways to do them without spending $5,000.

Always–always–walk a show first. Visit and see for yourself what’s going on.

See how many buyers are there and what kind of businesses they represent. Are they stores that would target your audience? And note if they are actually placing orders.

Note what vendors are there. Is your work compatible, similar, in the same general ball park? Or is your work wildly dissimilar? (Not necessarily a bad thing, but it takes skill and insight to work that disparity.) Talk to exhibitors to learn their experiences with the show (when they don’t have anyone in their booth, of course.)

Take advantage of any guest visitor services or programs. The BUYERS MARKET OF AMERICAN CRAFT, a show that targets retailers of fine contemporary American handcraft, offers a stellar Visiting Artists Program run by the Arts Business Institute. (I am proud to say I am a former faculty member of ABI.) Programs like these can be an excellent introduction to the art of doing a wholesale show.

Before deciding to do a show, calculate the total cost of doing such a show. Not just the booth fee (easily $1,400 and up), but the cost of shipping your booth and work to the show (and drayage charges to haul it around the show, if that isn’t included); your travel, hotel and food expenses; taxis (if you find a cheaper hotel far from the exhibition hall); electricity and other services for your booth; support materials (catalog or line sheets, displays, banners or posters, etc.); advertising and promotion (if you decide to place an ad in the show program).

If you do the show, PREPARE. Contact potential buyers before the show, and invite them to your booth. Send postcards to current and potential customers, with an image of your newest work and your show info (booth number, show specials, etc.) Conventional wisdom calls for a minimum of two mailings! (If you don’t have a mail list of current or prospective clients, see a future essay in this series on building a mailing list from scratch.)

You can call your best accounts and extend a personal invitation. Some artists even offer to purchase show tickets and distribute them to buyers. It can be money well spent if it gets your target store buyers to the show.

Last, be aware of the differences between a fine craft wholesale show (such as the BMAC or the new AMERICAN CRAFT RETAILERS EXPO and a gift show like THE BOSTON GIFT SHOW. A gift show may indeed be a good fit for your product. But know that you’ll be competing with vendors selling imported and manufactured goods. There may also be a higher risk of your product ideas being stolen or copied easily.

Let’s say you’ve already decided that a wholesale show, or its buying audience, is absolutely the next step for you. What are ways to explore this market and/or get your work in front of attendees without going 100% all the way?

1) Advertise in materials that will be distributed at the show.

For example, industry-related publishers often distribute free samples of their magazines at the show. A great ad can draw attention to your work at a time where buyers are actively thinking about buying. At wholesale fine craft shows, you can often find The Crafts Report, Niche and AmericanStyle magazines, New Age Retailer, Giftwear News, etc. If you can’t afford a regular ad (ranging from $500 and up), groups such as Wholesalecrafts.com often place large co-op ads in these same magazines at a greatly reduced cost. (pssst! This tip will also appear in an essay on how to have a presence at a wholesale show when you are not an exhibitor!)

2) Try a group or co-op booth.

Large shows like the Boston Gift Show sometimes offer discounted or comped booth space to large craft guilds and associations. (They are, of course, hoping you will love the experience and eventually want to have your own booth!)

If you are–or could be–a member of such a group, you can often participate with the group for not very much money. See my article Boston Gift Show 101. This can be an affordable and highly educational option.

3) Share a booth.

Some shows allow you to share a single booth space, halving your show fees right up front. There are pros and cons, of course, ranging from “Are your two bodies of work compatible or competitive?” to “Are you and your booth mate compatible or competitive?”

4) Travel light.

Select local or regional shows to cut down on travel expenses. It’s a lot cheaper for me to attend the Boston Gift Show, a two-hour drive away, than the ACRE show in Las Vegas, plus I can stay with friends in Boston for free. Of course, this doesn’t work if the ACRE show targets a better audience! Still, it’s something to consider.

If you drive to shows, buddy up with another vendor and cut down on your travel expenses. Share a hotel room. Find alternative ways to eliminate costly restaurant meals. For example, Reading Terminal Market, right across the street from the BMAC show, offers fresh fruits, sandwiches, take-away food that can save you big bucks over fancy dinners out.

5) Keep your booth light.

We all want to have a spectacular booth display. But if money is extremely tight, bring a minimal display to cut down on shipping costs. Tighten your inventory to your best sellers. Rely on large banners over pricey (and heavy) framed posters and wall treatments.

If you have any doubts about wholesale shows, it’s sometimes cheaper to rent basics like lights, carpeting, display cases or tables instead of buying these outright. You’ll also save on shipping costs if you can’t drive to the show.

Yes, a fancy display helps bring people in your booth. Yes, all the extras create a beautiful environment for customers. But your work is what makes them want to buy. If you’re a newbie, use that to your advantage, instead of trying to look like the Big Boys with the fabulous display.

6) Use FREE publicity instead of ads.

Distribute press releases before show (start six months before so your story has time to get picked up by magazines and newspapers). Email potential customers (but send links to your website or images instead of embedding them in the email itself.) Be ready for the media that comes to the show and bring press kits.

7) Be a renegade!

Some artists (like the Baltimore Alternative Show) set up their own mini-shows in nearby hotels while the “big” show goes on in the exhibition hall. You may not get the throngs of buyers, but…a) there aren’t any throngs anywhere anymore anyway, and b) your expenses are so low (no booth fee, just the cost of your hotel room), you don’t need as many buyers. FOLLOW UP!

In every alternative/half measure we discuss, remember that following up on your leads and prospects will double, even triple your success. Make that phone call to the gallery that expressed interest but wasn’t quite ready to buy. Mail that info you promised. Track down every lead, opportunity, connection you made at the show, whether it’s a potential sale, a networking piece, an exhibition opportunity. You never know where your next break will come from.

If you have suggestions for how to drastically reduce the cost of doing a wholesale show, jump in!

Then we’ll take about options besides wholesale shows for growing the wholesale side of your biz.

Before we even start discussing ways to develop/grow/refine the wholesale side of your business at a level acceptable to Y*O*U*, let’s stop and take inventory.

What do you want?

And of course, what do you need?

We know that “needs” and “wants” are two very different things, but it’s amazing how often we confuse the two in our speech–and in our thinking.

It’s also amazing how often we set goals based on what we think we should want/need/do. Sometimes, we even set goals based on what we think others think we should do. Yes, I know how convoluted that sounds. Still, you know it’s true.

If we can get out of our heads long enough, we see that everyone evaluates success differently. And that “success” means different things to different people.

Let’s talk about one measure of success–how much money you could make with your craft.

“Well, obviously, I need to make money!” you exclaim. Okay, good, that’s a start. Money is often the first “motivator” for making stuff, after all.

How much money? Enough to pay your mortgage and put food on the table? Enough to contribute significantly to the household income?

Maybe you don’t need to pay the mortgage, but you want to help put a child through college. Or maybe you want just enough to pay for the “goodies”–the family vacation, a new sofa, your horse riding habit?

Perhaps all you need, for now, to take your business to the next level–to pay for the next round of advertising or show fees, for that new piece of equipment that will make production so much easier, or for next year’s supplies.

Some people don’t really even need that. They have a day job, and their craft is whatever it is. It doesn’t have to do anything extra for them financially (although it’s nice if it does!)

It’s going to be different for each one of us. What’s the right amount for me may not be the right for you.

And….that’s okay.

Look, there is no contest you win if you make more money than another artist. Some people will make it about that–they think they’re better, or more successful, or smarter, or whatever. But trust me, there is no blue ribbon, no “first prize” to be won when it comes to measuring your success with your art.

Let’s say you do some local fairs, you sell through a small but fancy local gallery, you make enough money to support your business expenses, and make enough profit to pay for a lot of family extras. Are you a successful craftsperson?

To the artist who does 20 shows and year and supports their family with their craft income, you are not successful.

To the artist who has won major awards, been on the cover of fancy magazines, and whose commission work commands thousands of dollars, you are not successful.

To the artist who can only make enough to buy more supplies, you are successful.

To the person who dreams of being an artist, but has never sold a thing, you are wildly successful.

Who’s right?

Yup. Nobody. Everybody Who cares? It’s what it is for you.

There’s room for all of us at the table.

When I started out, I simply wanted to have some money that was mine, to spend with no accountability or excuse.

Sometimes I was able to pay for the “goodies”–to buy my son a kiln, for example, so he could pursue his art. That felt good.

Then I wanted money to take my business to the next level–to enter better shows, to create a beautiful booth, to advertise and promote my art.

Soon I wanted my work to earn enough money that I felt successful. After all, when a customer trades their hard-earned money for your work, that’s a huge compliment! It was proof that when someone said, “It’s beautiful and I love it”, they meant it. Kind of a “show me the money!” thing. The first time someone bought a $5,000 wall hanging from me was a magical, delirious moment in my life.

Things got muddy when I began accepting someone else’s definition of “financially successful artist”–without questioning whether it met my needs or wants.

I thought I would not be seen as a serious business person unless I was capable of earning a living with my work. Disclosure: I don’t have to support my family financially. My husband does what he loves, and it happens to be something that pays better than making little prehistoric horse artifacts.

But I felt I would not be respected by my peers unless I made a full-tilt effort to make sales–specifically, wholesale sales–my focus.

I began to confuse my “wants” (”I want to make enough money to be taken seriously!”) with my needs (”I only need to make enough right now to support my perfect vision of where I want to go with my art.”) (Of course, my “perfect vision” includes making wall hangings that sell for $10,000, so I’m not not about the money….)

I found myself focusing on the work I thought would sell, rather than the work I wanted to make. As times got worse and the wholesale markets slowed down, I became more frantic. I blamed myself, and my work. (I still remember an artist friend who gently reminded me, “You know the recession isn’t just about you, don’t you?”)

This is when I wrote Consignment Revisited.

I also realized that if my situation ever changes–if someday I do need to pay the mortgage–then and ONLY then, will I see if I have to make different decisions about how I run my business.

Learn from my mistakes. Whatever level you’re at, it’s okay. It’s all okay. You must remember that your financial goals are your own. You must believe–truly believe– any measure of success that’s meaningful to you, is okay.

For me, money is a certain measure of my success.

But I also want prestige, and respect for my work. And I want it to be meaningful. I want to know my efforts in the world–be it my fiber work, the jewelry, or the writing–inspires, reassures, empowers others. I want my artwork to help create the change I want to see in the world.

And I want these things more than I want a $10,000 wholesale order for horse tie tacks. (Of course, if that order helps me create the time and gather the materials to create a one-woman show of my work, maybe that’s a good trade.)

It’s okay to work at another job part-time, or even full-time, and simply make art in your spare time. If your other job is killing you, physically or emotionally, then you might want to rethink that, of course. But you can always just try a different job. You don’t have to make your craft full-time or earn your living from it, to be a “real artist”.

It’s okay to stick with small local craft shows, if that serves your wants and needs.

It’s okay to only wholesale to stores in your area or region–especially if your work’s aesthetic is a good fit. (I want to go national because, given a choice, most people pick maple syrup products over ancient horses and bears as part of their quintessential New England memento….)

It’s okay to decide you want to only have a dozen, or even half a dozen wholesale accounts. It’s even okay to sell through only one store, if you are happy with sales and how your work is represented.

It’s okay to only sell at home parties, if you love doing them. Or through appointments at your studio. Or on-line, or on Ebay. If that strategy suits your goals, then no one can tell you you’re doing it wrong.

So take a few minutes, pick up a pencil and make a list of what success really means to you.

Think about your goals, personal, professional, financial, for your art.

If money is an issue, think about how much money you really want or need to make. But promise me you WON’T think about how much money you need to make for other people to take you seriously. Because chasing these “other people’s” good opinion of you is as misleading and destabilizing (for an artist) as only making stuff you think “other people” want to buy. (Okay, I know that’s an awkward sentence. Just read it again slowly.)

Think about whether you want your work to be the next trendy thing (and that’s okay if that’s what you really want) or whether you want your Christmas ornament to be chosen to raise funds for a non-profit you fiercely support. Do you want to be on the cover of Ornament magazine? Or the cover of the Sundance catalog? (Hey, I want both!) Do you want your work carried by hundreds of stores across the country. Or six prestigious galleries? Or a dozen lesser known stores that kick butt selling your work?

Once you know where you want to go, then you can make better decisions on how to get there.

Extra credit reading:
Getting Started in Wholesale Series Intro
Getting Started #1: The Work
Getting Started #2: Doing GOOD Work
Getting Started #3: Do YOUR Work
Getting Started #4: DO Your Work
Getting Started #5: Selling Your Work
Getting Started #6: Upscale Your Work
Getting Started #7: Jump In! The Water’s Fine!
Getting Started #8: How Much Stuff is Enough?
Getting Started #9: Go to The Store!
Getting Started #10: Why Didn’t They Buy My Work??
Getting Started #11: It’s Okay Not to Know What You’re Doing
Getting Started #12: Getting to the Store
Getting Started #13: What Is Consignment?
Getting Started #14: What Is Wholesale?
Getting Started #14 p.s. That High Energy/Low Energy Thing
Getting Started #15: Why Am I Doing This?
Getting Started #16: What Else Do I Need to Bring?
Getting Started #17: Exclusivity
Getting Started #18: Minimum Orders

A reader emailed me recently. She’d just paid big money for a professional consultation on how to take her business to the next step.

The advice? Ramp up production to a huge level, and do a major wholesale show.

Unfortunately, that’s not possible for this craftsperson at this point in life. And as someone who tried to do just that, I’m here to tell you that even if you had the time and money to do just that, it still won’t necessarily bring you what you want.

First, wholesale shows are no longer a sure thing to build your business. And second, is that the kind of business model you even want?

I wrote back with some suggestions that the reader said was hugely helpful. And I realized, “Hey, this would make a good series!”

So with her permission, I’ll spend the next few essays discussing ways you can grow the wholesale side of your business, without turning your life over to mass production and without investing thousands and thousands of dollars on the wholesale show circuit. I’ll even suggest ways to do a wholesale show without breaking the bank.

And as always, I realized that in my good advice is the answer to the questions I’ve been asking myself these past few years, too. Help you–help myself. It’s a good trade.

I’m slowly returning to normal activities, and my spirit continues to mend, too.

It was a shock to learn that the spirit can take longer than the body to recover from a long year of injuries and setbacks. It was a good lesson to learn, though. I think I’ve gained more compassion for others in the same boat. You can handle one setback, another and another. But at some point, your soul just wants to hunker down and run.

We’ve always heard that when we are down in the dumps, it can help to reach out and help others. It’s a good way to get us outside our own heads, a way to move and act without being totally self-referential.

But if even that seems like too much, here’s a lower-threshold spiritual treatment I can almost guarantee will provide the same benefit:

Kittens.

There’s something about kitten antics that makes everything else weighing on your heart just fly away.

Everything is wildly interesting to them–the hem of your jeans, the tie on your robe, the cord on your window shades, the dryer lint in the waste basket, the bug crawling on the floor.

They jump, bounce, flounce, roll, and cry piteously when their tail is, in turn, mistaken for a toy by a sibling.

And if you get tired of dealing with a hamburger-sized ball of fuzz that sees everything in the world as attackable, there’s always an exhausted yet hugely grateful mom-cat who’s happy to simply sit and be petted.

Now, you don’t have to rush out and buy kittens. In fact, there’s a great way to have an (almost) everlasting supply of kittens on hand.

You can be a kitten foster care provider.

One of our favorite family volunteer projects is to act as a foster home for our local humane society. When they receive a pregnant cat or a mom-cat with young kittens, they quickly place them in homes for temporary care–about one to three months, or until the kittens are old enough to be safely adopted.

This gives the mothers a calm, loving environment outside the shelter. It gives the new family a haven from all the diseases that course through a shelter. It ensures the kittens get maximum socialization with humans, critical to their emotional development as family pets.

And as a side effect, our family gets to enjoy kittens in all their glory for two months.

Just when they reach those teenage years (in kitten time), they are all ready to go back to the humane society. The mom cats, unfortunately, may have to wait for new homes. But at least the kittens are adopted quickly, usually within a week. Although I confess, our current pair of cats, our clown-cat Chai and our nervous-nelly cat Moxie, were both former mom-cats in our home.

The layout of our home allows us to set up a foster cat station apart from the other critters. Our two regulars know something is going on, of course. Suddenly, interesting food is delivered to a room that’s now off-limits to them, and they aren’t allowed to drink out of the bathtub faucet anymore. Their bewilderment is palpable, and their attempts to convince us that they need that extra nice cat food, too are amusing.

Our latest batch came to us last week. The mom-cat has been christened “Juno”, after the movie with the young pregnant teen heroine of the same name, because she is so outrageously young herself. (A visitor, on seeing her emerge from the “nesting box”, exclaimed, “That’s the mother??

The kittens are tiny, and just now starting to open their eyes. Three golden mackerel tabbies (probably male), two black torties (probably female.)

They’re really too young to play with yet, and Juno waits anxiously nearby when we handle them, ready to snatch them back at the least little peep out of them.

But already, everything is delightfully right in the world.

P.S. This works with puppies and bunnies, too.

One of my favorite columns by writer Martha Beck is “You Spot It, You’ve Got it!” It appeared in the July 2004 issue of Oprah Magazine.

The article describes a cognitive phenomena that psychologist Daniel Wegner calls IMP: ironic monitoring process.

In essence, IMP is our powerful tendency to recognize our own faults in others.

We need to feel good about ourselves–it’s human nature. To do so, we often tend to overlook our own flaws and shortcomings.

But since our brains also tend to think about the things we’re trying not to think about (”brass monkeys!”), this “blind spot” makes us hypersensitive to the same flaw we’re trying to repress, in others.

The result is a dynamic of “you spot it, you got it.”

Hence the artist who reamed me out a few years ago (”for your own good”) about me being stuck with “same tired old techniques and the same tired old designs”…whose own work had not changed in 20 years. Hence the hypercritical teacher who, it turns out, was battling the same demons I was.

And hence my impatience with people I see making the same mistakes I struggle with.

There are some people who take this tendency to extremes. Their cognitive dissonance about what they’re doing makes them difficult to even be around. Once we recognize what they’re doing, we can take steps to avoid them.

But there’s also an interesting flip side to this tendency. And there’s something positive to be gained by recognizing it.

Sometimes, I find that the people who are the most aggravating in my life have much to teach me….about myself. It’s an opportunity to work on the same tendency in me.

And sometimes, I find the people who are hounding me the most about some perceived “lack” on my part, are simply looking for me to be their hero.

In their mind, if I can overcome this flaw, this adversity, this setback, this roadblock….

…then maybe there is hope for them.

Maybe they can overcome theirs.

This actually happened to me recently. There was someone who seemed to be pushing me about overcoming injury, who seemed determined to not take my age into account when it comes to my abilities.

It turns out that person needs to know they can overcome their injuries. And they are hoping age will not eventually hamper their efforts.

The artist who thought I was stuck, made huge creative leaps forward, and is enjoying huge success from it. (I wish I could claim credit, but she did it on her own.)

Sometimes we are the very demon we fight against.

And sometimes, we are someone else’s angel.

I received a piece of this packing material awhile back, and went nuts trying to find out more about it:

funny honeycomb paper stuff
more funny honeycomb paper stuff

It’s a sliced kraft paper; the slits allow the paper to expand and stretch beautifully around any item. It has a tissue paper underlay. It’s really neat, and I finally found the company that makes it:

GEAMI Ltd.

And this was brilliant… You know how I finally tracked down this company?

On the edge of the tissue paper, they’d printed their company name and phone number! (919-654-7700)

After spending fruitless hours trying to find the product on-line, and trying to describe it to shipping supply companies like U-Line, I finally saw the info on the tissue paper and found them in one minute.

Don’t be put off by the text (which implies they only work with big companies), they were happy to sell me a single roll.

A 175′ of 12′ wide paper (both the honeycomb and the tissue underlay) roll is $25, and the special dispensing machine (that rolls both out together) is $50.

I LOVE the way this material works with my natural kraft paper boxes and kraft paper name labels! It’s definitely more “green” than plastic, easier to deal with than packing peanuts and shredded paper. It’s a great company to work with, too.

Plus, if you are a paper artist, you’ll find other cool things to do with this stuff.

Not affiliated with the company, just happy to find such a cool product!

It’s been a hard, hard month. And this is a hard post to write. I’m not sure where it fits with my professional posts on my life as an artist.

But how I deal with depression has been a topic in the past, and perhaps it’s not so out of place this time, either.

Simply put, the long winter, my laundry list of surgeries and injuries, and my inability to work in my studio caught up with me awhile ago.

In hindsight, it was not a surprise. A good friend, an artist as well as a therapist, pointed out afterwards that all my usual coping mechanisms were unavailable to me this year. I slipped from my usual mild depression into a deep depressive state.

It was bad. But what was worse was when I went on medication for it. The side effects from Wellbutrin nearly killed me (figuratively.) I fell lower than I’ve been in decades.

I experienced massive anxiety and agitation. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t concentrate. I felt like I wanted to jump out of my skin. And I cried a lot.

Worst of all, even though I was now able to return to my artwork, I had absolutely no desire to.

I was devastated.

I didn’t realize it was the medication til I followed up with my doctor a month later. By then I was so low, I thought I would never come back up.  I went off the meds immediately, and soon felt merely depressed instead of suicidal.

But tiny little miracles have shown me there is a way back.

I look back now and see the chance encounters, the simple words of near strangers, that gave me a light to see the path at my feet.

I realize once again that though many friends cannot, should not or will not be present for someone in this state, there are some who can–and will. (To be fair, I spared many people the fact I was even going through this.)

I can now accept that chronic pain may be my constant companion, but that regular exercise can help–a little. And as my mood improves, I can bear it.

I realize how blessed I am to have found the martial arts teacher I have. When I am ready to start that journey again, I will have safe passage there.

I am blessed many times over in my loving husband.

When I called a friend who beat cancer last year and found out he’d had the same reaction after he’d gotten through it, I realized my feelings may be normal. When you get through something awful, you expect to feel better and different when you reach the other side. But sometimes you feel let down because you simply don’t. Looking back, I think it’s because it actually takes much, much longer to recover emotionally than we think.

I have a great referral to some docs who will help me sort out what my best choices are. I hate depression medication and their side effects, but I need help figuring out whether that is my best option or not, from someone with more oversight and “industry perspective” than me.  (One said dryly, “Please do not take more Wellbutrin til we can talk, yes?”)

And somehow, knowing all this has actually helped me feel better.

I even worked a little on my new ideas for polymer the last few days, though the results were embarrassingly dismal and uninteresting. But I can remember failing before I found my way to good designs, and the process doesn’t seem as awful as I thought it would be.

There you have it. That’s where I’ve been for the last month. Down, down, down in the dumps.

But suddenly, it doesn’t look so far to the top of the hole anymore.

p.s. Now for the funny part.

The Wellbutrin also raised my blood pressure 30 points, and I lost my appetite.

And even in the depths of my depression, when I weighed myself and found I’d lost five pounds without even thinking about it, I thought, “Well, maybe I could stay on it a little bit longer….”

Robin has insisted I change that word to “underwear” and I have.

And she made me put in that we did that when she was a baby, which is true.

And she says she loves the H.D. and wants to try it on when it’s dry (presumably to see how far down her nose it comes.

And the second hat (periwinkle!) is looking good, though far too warm (wool) for Seattle.

And today I’m going yarn-shopping with another friend at Webs, an incredible yarn store/warehouse in Northampton, MA.

So yarn will be found. Purple yarn. Not wool.

It started out innocently enough.

I just wanted to knit a few hats for a friend, and a baby sweater for another friend expecting his first child.

“I’ll surprise her with a hat!” I thought. Then I read in a forum that this can be a bad idea.

I emailed her to ask her if 1) she wanted a hat; 2) if so, please choose from an assortment of online patters I’d found; and 3) what colors she would like.

She emailed back with not only her color and style choices, but she ran out to actually buy a few balls of yarn and sent them to me.

And now the sad tale begins.

I have tons of yarn. I have a barn attic full of yarn. Not only do I have a lot of yarn (did I mention I have a LOT of yarn?), in my search for the appropriate yarns, I found another huge stash of yarn in another attic that’s been there since we moved into this house eight years ago. (I forgot all about it. Hey, that’s where all my brown yarn and mohair yarns went!)

Turns out the best yarns for really comfortable hats are not wool. I have mostly wool yarns. Not only mostly wool yarns, I have very few yarns suitable for soft hats and baby sweaters. In fact–none.

And, although if you’d asked me three months ago what colors of yarn I have, I would have happily exclaimed, “Every color under the sun!”, it turns out I actually have only a warm palette of yarn.

Lots of rust. Tons of turquoise. Many, many soft greens. Gold, pumpkin, orange. Periwinkle blue. Even red. Even a teensy bit of black.

No fuschias. No purples. No bright clear blues or corals.

I’ve also rediscovered why I don’t actually knit that much.

Although I am a competent knitter, and read about knitting voraciously, although I know four different ways to increase stitches, although I conscientiously knit gauge swatch after gauge swatch, although I broke down and bought tons of new knitting needles because I have lost my entire stash in my attic (I hate my attic! It’s too good for storing stuff), although I picked the easiest pattern (a beret–I have knit many berets before) and experimented with dozens of yarns to find the perfect ones….

I actually have a rather profound and pronounced inability to follow directions.

I found all this out this weekend when I spent three straight days knitting what I desperately wanted to be the perfect hat.

And ended up with a giant, floppy, heavy, heather gray-purple hat that is completely unwearable even by me.

And because it’s mostly silk/angora, it won’t even felt down into shape.

And I can’t add elastic to the the cuff/brim (which is way, way too big and loose) because that would be too harsh on tender skin.

Maybe I can make a bag out of it. Or give it to my darlin’ daughter, who looks marvelous in anything she puts on her head. I swear you could give her a pair of underwear to put on her head, and she could pull it off. In fact, I think we tried this once, and she did indeed look good with underwear on her head.

Back to the drawing board.

p.s. Hey! Maybe I could make a bag out of it!